


one single thread of gold tied me to you

by lizzysbennett



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Very very fluffy, and then they bang, ben cannot seem to be smooth around rey, big soulmate vibes, i rated it e just to be safe but it's more of a soft e, rey just thinks it's hilarious, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:01:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25642465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizzysbennett/pseuds/lizzysbennett
Summary: Professor Ben Solo is suffering from a very real case of writer's block, so he decides to return to his childhood vacation home in the small coastal town of Naboo, where he meets Rey. He has never wanted anyone more than he wants her.What could go wrong?
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24
Collections: A Picture is worth 1000 Words - PL Summer Exchange





	one single thread of gold tied me to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluetoast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/gifts).



> The water is remarkably calm, still and glassy, the first time Ben Solo travels to Naboo after his parents split up. It’s amazing how little has changed. He and the tiny coastal town have been separated for nearly twenty years; he expected things would be different, some significantly so, but something about the place appears frozen in time. The signs welcoming people to town look the same, Main Street looks the same—and the family home where Ben’s little family used to stay, it looks the same, too.

It doesn't feel the same, though.

He feels exhausted. Everything feels exhausted.

But that’s the whole point of spending his summer here: to let himself rest, and hopefully to work on his book. Boston tired him. He needed to get away from all of it. He hadn't written a word in probably two months before he left, and at that rate, he’d never finish anything.

Ben spends most of the morning moving things into the little family house, unpacking, cleaning things up, and airing things out. It wasn’t in bad shape. His mom might have said something about renting it out on Airbnb or having someone clean it, maybe, but it was still obvious that some rooms, like the attic, had not been inhabited in quite some time. Still, it doesn't take him too long to make the place liveable for a summer.

By the time noon rolls around, he’s starving. Making his own lunch does not, at that point, sound particularly appealing. Who cooks on vacation?

So he wanders down Main Street until he finds it: a little, low-ceilinged brick building, almost hidden behind those around it. A little chalkboard sign advertising daily specials points him toward it, but without that, it would give no indication food was served there. A little sign hangs above the door, proclaiming the place is “Luke’s Diner.” He grins and walks through the door.

His uncle is a grumpy old bastard, but Ben doesn't really mind him. Sure, he’d said some very hurtful things to Ben in the past, but they’ve moved beyond that. Mostly. It does tend to come up at Thanksgiving, or really any event where they both have more than two glasses of wine—which, much to his mother’s chagrin, has included Passover once or twice, though they usually make more of an effort to behave then.

Regardless, he’s sure Luke won't mind seeing Ben at his restaurant. He knew Ben would be coming up here, after all, so he had to expect to see him in here once or twice.

He takes a seat at a small table in the back corner, and a very, very pretty waitress walks over to him. She has glossy brown hair that hangs to about her shoulders, hazel eyes, and a bright smile that instantly makes Ben feel just a little better about himself.

“Hi, how are you doing?”

Oh, fuck. She has a British accent. Of course she has a British accent. He is so fucked.

“Good, thanks,” Ben says, feeling tongue-tied and inexplicably dazed.

“Great! Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Uh, a Coke, if you don't mind.” 

“Sure thing!”

She walks away, and Ben thinks he might be in love.

He tries very hard not to act creepy when she comes back. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable or afraid in her place of work, and it would be highly inappropriate for him to hit on her here. His mother would kick his ass if he even thought about it. But at the same time... Ben has never been good at hiding his feelings. His face always just gives everything away. So he’s very careful not to do anything she might find upsetting.

Ben orders a meatball sub. That was always Luke’s least favorite thing to make because “people are so damn picky about them.” And Ben is more than okay with inconveniencing Luke. It’s really rather fun. As long as his mother, who “just wants them to get along” doesn't know about it.

“Here’s that for you,” the pretty waitress says, setting his food down in front of him. “I don't know if it’ll be enough for you, though. You look like you need a bit more to keep you going.” Her eyes travel over his body slowly. Ben’s ears feel warm.

“Well, if it’s not, I’ll, uh, let you know,” he responds, tongue heavy. There’s no way she’s flirting with him, right?

Right?

She laughs and tells him to enjoy his food before she walks away.

Ben bangs his fist on the table, growling in frustration. He only just manages to keep himself from throwing his computer across the room.

After lunch, he’d felt a peace, a restoration, sweep over him. He’d been so hopeful that he’d be able to make good progress in his work, but he can’t, completely unable to focus on anything but that girl’s face. Now, as the sun sinks in the sky, it is becoming quite clear that he won't be able to write much of anything today.

He grabs his phone and starts scrolling, trying to find something, anything, to help take his mind off his lack of progress. Suddenly, he has an idea—what the Grinch might call a wonderful, awful idea.

He opens Yelp and finds the page for his uncle’s diner. Messing with Luke always makes him feel a little better. Quickly, he types up a three-star review. (It wouldn't do to invite too much animosity.) It’s short, but sweet: “Worst meatball sub I’ve ever had. Great service, though.” His uncle almost certainly cooked the food, so he definitely wanted to insult that, but he didn't want to disparage that girl, even in a not-serious Yelp review that he’ll probably delete in a couple days. After Luke has had ample time to be annoyed by it, of course.

Ben stretches out and puts his phone face-down on the counter, feeling far more satisfied with himself than he had previously.

There’s absolutely no way this could backfire.

The next day, he goes back to Luke’s for lunch, feeling a little sheepish and slightly ashamed, but he is definitely one hundred percent only going because he’s hungry and how is he supposed to write on an empty stomach—not because he’s hoping he might see her again.

This time, the chalkboard sign is absent any notes about daily specials, instead proclaiming to all passersby that they ought to “Come in and try the worst meatball sandwich some asshole on Yelp ever had in his life.”

It actually makes him laugh out loud, and he walks inside the restaurant with a big grin on his face. That pretty waitress comes over to him again, and she says, a pretty little smile on her face, “What’s got you in such a good mood?” “Oh, I’m just laughing at the sign.” He jabs his thumb toward the doorway. “Luke is such an old grump. He usually doesn't have that great of a sense of humor though.”

“You know Luke?” she says, shooting him a quizzical look.

“Yes, he’s my uncle.” 

“Oh,” is all she says. Then: “And he didn't tell you he retired?”

Chill sweeps over him and makes its home inside him as a pit in his stomach, though he’s not sure he knows why. “Retired?”

“Yes, a few months ago. He sold the place to his protegee, and he’s living just north of here in Ahch-To. I think the weather suits the miserable bastard,” she laughs.

“Oh,” he says, the dread only increasing, though he understands its origin better now. “So, who owns it now?”

“I do.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Oh my god,” he says, so horrified he seems unable to speak. “Oh my god.”

“What is it?”

Hands shaking, he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I said the stupid meatball sandwich was bad but I just did it to mess with Luke oh my god oh my god I didn't mean—fuck, I’ll delete it right now, oh my god, I am so sorry—”

Then, she does the most unexpected thing: she laughs.

“That is the sort of thing families do, I guess.”

“You...” He lowers his phone. “You aren’t mad?”

She shrugs. “Not really. It’s not like one mediocre Yelp review would really hurt us.”

He looks at his phone again, taps a few buttons. “There. I deleted it. I’m really sorry...”

“Rey.”

“Rey. I’m really sorry, Rey.”

Her name is perfect, of course it’s perfect, everything about her is perfect. She’s so bright. Her name tastes right in his mouth, on his lips. He never wants to say anyone else’s name again; it seems like a waste of time, when he could be saying _hers_.

She smiles. “Really, it’s okay—” 

“Ben.”

“It’s okay, Ben, don't worry about it.”

And if he’d thought saying her name was the best thing he’d ever experienced, it’s nothing compared to hearing her say his. It’s like something inside of him just clicks, like he knows this is where he’s supposed to be, what he’s supposed to be doing. Why has he ever done anything else?

“Now,” she says, breaking his reverie, “what can I get you for lunch?”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!


End file.
